Sophie Mellerby.
Lady Scroope thought a great deal about her friend’s
communication, but at last made up her mind that she
could do nothing till Fred should have returned.
Indeed she hardly knew what she could do when he did
come back. The more she considered it the greater
seemed to her to be the difficulty of doing anything.
How is a woman, how is even a mother, to caution a
young man against the danger of becoming acquainted
with a pretty girl? She could not mention Miss
O’Hara’s name without mentioning that
of Lady Mary Quin in connexion with it. And when
asked, as of course she would be asked, as to her
own information, what could she say? She had
been told that he had made himself acquainted with
a widow lady who had a pretty daughter, and that was
all! When young men will run into such difficulties,
it is, alas, so very difficult to interfere with them!
And yet the matter was of such importance as to justify
almost any interference. A Roman Catholic Irish
girl of whom nothing was known but that her mother
was said to be a widow, was, in Lady Scroope’s
eyes, as formidable a danger as could come in the
way of her husband’s heir. Fred Neville
was, she thought, with all his good qualities, exactly
the man to fall in love with a wild Irish girl.
If Fred were to write home some day and say that he
was about to marry such a bride,—or, worse
again, that he had married her, the tidings would
nearly kill the Earl. After all that had been
endured, such a termination to the hopes of the family
would be too cruel! And Lady Scroope could not
but feel the injustice of it. Every thing was
being done for this heir, for whom nothing need have
been done. He was treated as a son, but he was
not a son. He was treated with exceptional favour
as a son. Everything was at his disposal.
He might marry and begin life at once with every want
amply supplied, if he would only marry such a woman
as was fit to be a future Countess of Scroope.
Very little was required from him. He was not
expected to marry an heiress. An heiress indeed
was prepared for him, and would be there, ready for
him at Christmas,—an heiress, beautiful,
well-born, fit in every respect,—religious
too. But he was not to be asked to marry Sophie
Mellerby. He might choose for himself. There
were other well-born young women about the world,—duchesses’
granddaughters in abundance! But it was imperative
that he should marry at least a lady, and at least
a Protestant.
Lady Scroope felt very strongly that he should never
have been allowed to rejoin his regiment, when a home
at Scroope was offered to him. He was a free
agent of course, and equally of course the title and
the property must ultimately be his. But something
of a bargain might have been made with him when all
the privileges of a son were offered to him.
When he was told that he might have all Scroope to
